


Sit Around and Dream

by infinitevariety (disapparater)



Series: Summer Omens [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Napping, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Scene: The Ritz (Good Omens), Summer Omens (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25693684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/infinitevariety
Summary: Crowley may or may not catch Aziraphale sleeping.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Summer Omens [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836280
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	Sit Around and Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Summer Omens prompt SNOOZE and originally posted [here](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/post/625438044774940675/snooze).

Crowley hits the sofa with a soft thud and glances at the clock.

Twenty four hours ago they were standing on the tarmac at the Tadfield Airbase watching four kids save the world. Fourteen hours ago they were sitting in Crowley’s flat trying to switch bodies. Seven hours ago they were being abducted by heaven and hell and sentenced to deaths that didn’t kill them. And two hours ago they were settling in for an early dinner at the Ritz.

Now they are at the bookshop, full of champagne and food and relief.

With nothing left to focus on—no apocalypse, no punishment, no toast—Crowley’s mind drifts. He is brought back to the moment when a second soft thud sounds beside him. He turns to see Aziraphale sitting next to him looking about as dazed as Crowley feels.

“Wine?” says Aziraphale.

Crowley nods.

Aziraphale nods back. “I’ll just… Just give me a minute.” He relaxes back into the sofa, letting some of the stiffness in his body ease.

With a smile, Crowley lets his head fall back to rest on the sofa. He stares up at the ceiling. The ceiling he’s looked up at hundreds of times over the years. From rolling his eyes with frustration or tipping his head back with laughter at something Aziraphale has said, to laying down and pretending to sleep.

Crowley’s seen a lot of this ceiling. Saw it on fire, once, very recently. He closes his eyes and shakes the memory away. It’s still here. _He’s_ here.

As though hearing Crowley’s thoughts, Aziraphale gives a quiet sigh. Crowley smiles up at the ceiling, back in this moment with Aziraphale. He wonders what they’ll do now. Now that they can do anything. Maybe they’ll walk together to St James’s Park instead of meeting up there. Maybe Crowley will pop by the bookshop more often with no preplanned excuse for the visit. Maybe Aziraphale will let him.

A short snort pulls Crowley from his thoughts. He frowns and turns to look at Aziraphale, having to quickly stifle his own snort of laughter.

Aziraphale has his eyes closed, his head tipped slightly sideways, and his mouth hanging open a little. With one hand over his own mouth, Crowley openly stares. Aziraphale has, to Crowley’s knowledge, _never_ slept before.

He looks so peaceful. All the tension he usually carries washed away, his face slack and entire body relaxed. He’s never, Crowley thinks with more smothered laughter, looked more angelic. He can’t look away.

Crowley takes a deep breath and steadies himself before removing his hand from his mouth. He thinks he has himself under control, but then a small bubble of laughter overtakes him from the inside. He shakes with silent giggles, vibrating the sofa. Aziraphale eyes open and he winds himself back up to attention, snapping his jaw shut.

“What on earth is the matter?” asks Aziraphale, eyeing Crowley’s shaking form warily.

Crowley shakes his head while trying to get his laughter under control again.

“You—” Another small giggle cuts him off. “You were asleep,” he finally manages.

“I certainly was not.” Aziraphale sits up straighter, crossing his arms.

“You certainly _were_. Snoring and everything.”

“Preposterous. I don’t sleep.”

“You do now, apparently.”

Aziraphale huffs, pulls at the front of his waistcoat, and stands up.

“Nonsense. Now, where’s that wine?”

He wanders off, leaving Crowley smiling after him.

Crowley is still smiling when Aziraphale returns with two glasses and a bottle of wine. They pour, they drink, they talk nonsense. It’s nice.

It’s most of the bottle later, during a lull in their conversation, that Crowley dares mention it again.

“It’s okay to have a little snooze, you know.”

Aziraphale’s wine glass freezes halfway to his mouth before being lowered again.

“I didn’t sleep, Crowley. Please, just drop it.”

“I’m just saying, it’s okay if you _do_.”

They look at each other, quiet again, for a few moments.

“If I start sleeping, will you start staying up all night reading?” asks Aziraphale.

“Maybe I will.” Crowley shrugs with one shoulder.

Aziraphale nods before getting up and walking away.

“Where are—”

Before Crowley can even get his question out, Aziraphale is back. He drops a book into Crowley’s lap as he drops himself back down on the sofa.

“Start with this one,” says Aziraphale.

Crowley looks down at the book in his hands, not really seeing it. Aziraphale fidgets beside him, and Crowley looks over in time to see Aziraphale swing his legs up beside him on the sofa and drop his head onto Crowley’s shoulder.

“Good night then, my dear.”

By the time Crowley has the wherewithal to respond, Aziraphale is already snoring.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
